


Brownies and Blowjobs

by allmystars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Baking, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Brownies, Cocky Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean Winchester Wants Attention, Flustered Castiel (Supernatural), Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Naked Baking, Naked Cuddling, Naked Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roommates, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26623666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmystars/pseuds/allmystars
Summary: "It’s fucking 2020, I should be able to watch Netflix nude while making brownies without you getting preachy about it."Dean wants Castiel's attention, but he doesn't know how to ask for it, so he bakes brownies... completely naked.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 27
Kudos: 369
Collections: destiel4ever





	Brownies and Blowjobs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michi27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi27/gifts).



> Hello hello!
> 
> Yes, this is mostly smut, but it worked so well with the prompt, so I had to! You can thank [Michi27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi27/pseuds/Michi27) for this, since she shared the prompt on Twitter lol. (Also, today is her birthday?!? Says Twitter?? HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!)
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think in the comments, and don't forget to drop a kudos if you like it!

“Seriously, Dean?” For fuck’s sake! Does he really have to show it all off _all_ the time? With his hand slapped over his eyes, Castiel huffs, because who the fuck steps into their kitchen and immediately gets an eyeful of their roommate’s junk? “Can’t you put some pants on? Underwear, at least?”

“Huh? Oh, come on, it’s not like you haven’t seen my dick before.” Yeah, but he doesn’t need to see it _now_. He drops his hand from his face to scowl at Dean, who’s still naked as the day he was born and not bothering to cover up at _all_ , standing in front of the oven with a brownie batter-covered spatula in hand. “You were pretty up close and personal with it last night, too, if I recall.” He winks with a cocky grin, too good looking for his own good, and fuck him for that, too.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should be naked _all_ the time,” he huffs, and if he’s blushing as he says it, well that’s nobodies business but his own. “Put some damn clothes on before you dip your dick in the batter.”

“Hmm, now that’s a thought.” Dean turns his freckly ass to Castiel, who drops onto the old, worn-out sofa from their first year of college. He kicks their discarded clothes from the night before onto the carpet and under the coffee table, pretty damn certain he asked Dean to gather them up this morning. “Double-fudge, cream-filled brownies.”

Ew. “Disgusting.”

“Again, not what you were saying last—”

“Okay! Okay, I get it.” Is that all he has to say? Jesus. The last thing Castiel needs is to be reminded of their little arraignment, for fuck’s sake. “We slept together, I know. I was there, remember?” He’s not even really sure why he’s annoyed, but it probably has something to do with the hot piece of ass dancing around the kitchen to the Zepp tracks playing over the radio.

“Wow, someone’s testy,” Dean murmurs, one eyebrow raised as he shakes his ass and if it isn’t the hottest thing Castiel’s ever seen. His hair is fucked seven ways to Sunday, and with his dancing, his cheeks have a perfectly pink flush, highlighting the smattering of freckles across his nose, and the deep green of his eyes.

Dean is beautiful, there’s no denying it, but he’s also more emotionally unavailable than a bag of chips. It’s infuriating, and more than a little heartbreaking, to say the least, but what else can Castiel do? They’re college roommates. And best friends. Who occasionally have sex.

And, really, he has better things to think about than taking that little red spatula and swatting Dean’s jiggling ass until his skin matches—

“I’m not testy, I’m _tired_.”

“Yeah, you are!” Dean shouts, a grin stretching his lips as he points a finger in Castiel’s direction. “Because I’m damn good!” He spins away again, swaying his hips and singing along to Ramble On.

Castiel rolls his eyes and turns back to his homework. He has too much to do to be distracted by Dean. Again.

Like last night, when he tossed his books across the table when Dean got home, looking hotter than sin with a bad attitude and wandering hands. God, his hands—

_No. Just, no._

After a while, and more studying than Castiel could’ve dreamed of, the music quiets and the dorm room fills with the sweet, chocolatey scent of baking brownies, and he'd be lying if he said his stomach doesn’t growl.

He’s just about finished his American lit essay, and he was most of the way through his classics readings when Dean got home, but—

The sofa shifts beside him when Dean flops down, remote in one hand and brownies in the other.

“Seriously?” Castiel balks, staring at Dean like he’s grown another head. Okay, so he hasn’t _grown_ another one, but it’s still on full display! “Dean, you can’t just sit here with me, _naked_ , while I’m trying to do homework! It’s not… _proper_.”

Okay, so manners have fuck-all to do with it, but still, he doesn’t need to be thinking about giving Dean a blowjob while trying to find the symbolism in the American civil war.

“Who the fuck ever called me proper?” Dean scoffs, barely sparing Castiel a glance as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and flicks through Netflix’s listed movies.

“No one, but you should at least _try_ , you know?” Giving up on his homework, he tosses his pen to the table, where it rolls to the edge and falls to the floor. He looks Dean up and down. God, he’s hot, even with batter splattered on his nose and icing drying in his hair. Stupidly hot. Annoyingly, unfairly _hot_. “Some boxers would be acceptable.”

Dean just looks at him, a disgusted scowl on his face and a glare Dean only gives him when he’s more offended than angry. “It’s fucking 2020, I should be able to watch Netflix nude while making brownies without you getting preachy about it.” He turns back to the screen as Castiel blinks.

Is Dean… pouting?

“Give me a brownie,” Castiel says, turned sideways now to look at his profile.

“Suck my dick.”

Yes, definitely pouting.

“Dean.” He snatches the remote from Dean’s hand and tosses it aside when he ignores him. “Dean Winchester, are you pouting?”

“What?” he snaps, turning his most withering glare on Castiel, who doesn’t so much as twitch. “No, I’m not fucking _pouting_ , asshat.”

“You are!” Ha! This is new! Dean never pouts; not even when Castiel eats the last slice of pie—then, he’s just pissed off. He leans in closer, a smile tugging at his lips because, shit, he hadn’t even noticed it, but it makes so much sense.

Dean is trying to get his attention.

“Am not,” Dean whines, snatching up a brownie from his over-loaded plate and stuffing the whole thing in his mouth as he turns back to the TV, his knees drawn up to his chest. He chews slow, cheeks bulging as chocolate crumbs fall from the corners of his mouth.

The truth has already weaselled its way into Castiel’s heart, though. He knows he’s right, and nothing short of Dean telling him he wants nothing to do with him, sworn on Baby’s perfectly polished paint job, will convince him otherwise.

Dean was trying to get his attention, but because he’s _Dean_ , he can’t just ask for it. Not like he usually would, anyway—not out loud and obnoxious like he used to—because things have changed between them in a big, terrifying way for Dean.

Because now, Dean _cares_.

And if that isn’t the hottest fucking thing in the world, he doesn’t know what is.

Arousal burns through him so hot and fast, he aches with it, and a moan almost slips from his lips when his cock hardens in record time, pressing against the fly of his jeans. He wants Dean, and he wants him _now_.

Fuck it.

Castiel lunges for Dean, shoving him down to his back and spreading his legs.

“Cas, what the fuck— _fuck_ …” His words cut off on a breathy, choked out curse when Castiel wraps his lips around his hardening cock, sucking hard, then soft as he spreads Dean’s legs even further, letting one foot fall to the floor as he hikes the other over his shoulder.

Fingers twine in his hair, tugging to the rhythm of his hollowing cheeks, and a moan vibrate up Dean’s length.

There’s almost nothing Castiel loves more than sucking dick—the weight of a thick, leaking cock on his tongue and the ache in his jaw as he takes it deep—but he loves doing it for Dean more, and he takes him in as far as he can without gagging, before sucking hard when he pulls off with a _pop_.

“Feel good?” he whispers, and he knows it does, but he flicks his eyes to Dean’s and, fuck, he looks good. His eyes are heavy-lidded and filled with pleasure, his pouty lips bright red and shiny where he’s been biting them.

“Yeah, Cas, you know it does— _shit_!” Dean throws his head back on a grunt when Castiel licks a broad stripe up his length, swirling his tongue around the head while his hand works him with slow, even pumps.

All the while, Castiel watches as Dean’s fingers move to his nipples, pinching and tugging—pleasuring himself without shame.

He hikes Dean’s leg up higher, pressing it up to his chest as he takes another lick, flattening his tongue out from root to tip and tasting the salty musk of pre-come. It’s like a drug, and it’s got Castiel rolling his hips against the cushions, seeking any kind of friction he can get.

“Come _on_ , Cas… _suck_ me,” Dean whines, his hands finding their way into Castiel’s hair one more time and giving a sharp, desperate tug.

Who is Castiel to refuse?

He swallows him down, gagging softly at first before pulling back and finding a rhythm as his other hand fumbles at his fly. He needs friction... skin on skin... _something_ before he loses his mind.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Cas… yeah, like that.” Dean rolls his hips, chest flushed and sweat beading on his forehead. “Please, _please_!”

Castiel gets a hand on himself, not wasting any time as he jerks his fist. Pleasure builds low in his stomach, stoked higher with every breathy whine and cut off plea that falls from Dean’s lips. God, he’s so fucking hot—so needy and greedy and _perfect_ —Castiel knows he won’t last long like this.

“Come, Dean. Do it,” Castiel says, only taking his mouth off of his dripping cock long enough to say the words before dropping back down and _sucking_ him.

He hollows his cheeks, flicks his eyes up to Dean’s face, and gives it all he’s got.

And Dean _loses_ it.

He throws his head back on a bitten-off cry, his hips jerking forward with his thigh still held tight to his chest and comes so hard Castiel chokes.

He swallows as fast as he can, but some still dribbles down his chin, and he keeps his fist pumping as he licks Dean clean, pulling out the last bits of pleasure as he comes down from his orgasm.

“Come on me,” Dean pants, spreading his legs wider when Castiel lets him go, and that’s almost got Castiel coming then and there as heat seers through him.

Dean looks like a fucking dessert, lying there with his legs spread wide, a freshly-fucked glaze to his eyes as he pants for breath, and all Castiel can do is sit up on his knees and wrap on hand around his cock.

He uses his pre-come to smooth the way, jerking hard and fast as pleasure rips through him. He twists his wrist, thrusting into his own palm as he watches Dean through heavily lidded eyes.

“God, you look so hot, Cas,” Dean purrs, biting his bottom lip as he looks him over. “I could get hard again just watchin’ you. Come ‘ere.”

Castiel goes, leaning forward and bracing himself above Dean with one hand beside his head, and he lets his other hand fall away when Dean reaches for him, wrapping strong, sure fingers around him.

“Y’know how long I wanted to fuck you for?” Dean pants, his fingers sliding over Castiel’s cock as he slows down his rhythm. Castiel shakes his head, too close to really pay attention as a deep, rumbling moan falls from his lips. “ _Years_.”

“Why didn’t’cha?” Castiel breathes, his hips moving of their own volition when Dean swirls his thumb over the head.

“Fucking stupid, that’s why.” He’s not about to argue, but it seems Dean’s done talking because, in the next moment, he’s got his hand in Castiel’s hair, tugging him down until their lips meet.

He really goes to town.

Dean kisses like he fucks; hot and dirty and wicked as sin, but Castiel wouldn’t have it any other way. He licks into Dean’s mouth, biting that full bottom lip as he thrusts into the tunnel of his fist. He’s so close he can taste it, right on the edge of oblivion as the pressure builds and builds, sending white-hot pleasure up his spine.

Oh God, oh _shit_ …

Castiel moans into Dean’s mouth, so hot that he could crawl out of his own skin, but with one last swipe of his thumb and the words, “Come for me, Sunshine,” whispered against his lips, Castiel does.

A strangled cry falls from him as he trembles and shakes, coming all over Dean’s bare chest as pleasure rips through him, and he doesn’t even care that he’s still mostly clothed, or that he and Dean aren’t really dating.

He doesn’t care, because Dean is _here_ , with _him_.

When Castiel opens his eyes again, he’s laid out against Dean’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall with each breath, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind.

“You gonna get undressed now?” Dean mumbles, sleepy, and smiling, and too good to be true, but Castiel does as he’s told, because why wouldn’t he?

“Better?” Castiel asks, twisting until he fits into Dean’s side. He wipes up his mess with his t-shirt before tossing it under the table with the others—he’ll clean up later.

He glances at the plate of brownies, only second-guessing himself once before snatching one up and taking a bite. Oh, _God…_ It melts in his mouth, still warm and rich and chocolaty, and he offers Dean a bite.

Dean sinks his teeth into it and a filthy moan falls from his lips. If Castiel had better stamina…

“Much,” Dean says, and closes his eyes, a contented grin on his face and, yeah, Castiel can’t really argue with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter at [allmystars_AO3](https://twitter.com/allmystars_AO3)  
> ~  
> Follow me on Tumblr at [allmystars-i](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/allmystars-i)  
> ~  
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